Who's The Other Guy?

Is it something I said?  I mean you could tell me and I wouldn't get upset.

I was just going over notes left for me by the Studly Pastures research team (cough) and it turns out that readership is down--like way down.  Let's say it's so down that if we were a company that was built on turning a profit that I would have resorted to insider trading a few months ago.  Our stock is bleeding faster than a stuck pig and I've never understood that reference other than I guess you have to bleed the pig before you cook it otherwise you get really bloody bites of pork.

They've even gone as far to say that Latvia hasn't been around in months and I'm especially hurt about that.  We had a great thing going, Latvia, and you're just going to toss me aside like some cheap blog floozy.  It makes me wonder two things: where the Hell are Latvians going to get their American sports banter if not from me and why did they ever stumble upon me in the first place?

Who knows how this wacky internet thingy works.  I type words that only I can see and press a button and suddenly every entity in the universe can see them too.  That's either incredible technology or the Devil's work and I haven't decided which one it is yet or if it's both.

After I crunched the numbers left for me by the research team (cough) I started trying to find some sort of correlation between the lack of readership and the content of the post.  That search proved to be moot because all I concluded was that I was consistent across the board with genius observations and hilarious banter on American sports.  That much was clear.

However a senior ranking adviser from the creative department (cough) discovered an abnormality in what kind of music I listen to when writing a post.  For most of the last year I've been listening to classical music because I love classical music and it makes me relaxed and put at ease.  Well that's exactly the opposite of what the Studly Pastures is about.  We're loud, we're abrasive, and we don't do serene.  No more classical.  It's time for some other classical.  I'm writing tonight to the sweet sounds of the Electric Light Orchestra station on Pandora and it's time for some real thoughts.

First off, if a closer comes into a ninth inning with a two-run lead and loses the game he should be demoted or at the very least docked in pay.  Your job is to close the game, the very nature of it is in your job title for crying out loud!  If I'm the cab driver and you hop in the backseat and tell me where you are going and I say okay and immediately gun the gas pedal and drive into the first light-post I see there's going to be consequences and repercussions!  I understand that the job is a high-stress atmosphere.  There's never thousands of people watching a cab driver's every move on television but I guess my beef is truly with the lack of ownership.  If you give up a walk-off grand slam to lose the game for your team when everything that went wrong was truly your fault the very next thing you should do is answer for it.  I want to hear you come out and say, "Well I sucked complete balls tonight and I'm really sorry that I didn't do my job and even beyond that I found some twisted way to make doing my job seem more heroic than it really is.  I guess I shouldn't have walked out to the mound and immediately crapped my pants and then proceed to chuck that crap into the stands.  I am really sorry about this and can only hope you show mercy."

If that happened I might be a little more forgiving.

Second of all, the NFL Draft is barreling towards us which is always a very exciting time for me here down at the Studly Pastures.  I get really worked up about it and always refer to it as NFL Holy Day and everybody wants to know who is going to go number one overall.  Well last year an offensive tackle went number one overall and that's always boring but before him the last four number ones were all quarterbacks, which is considered the most important position on the team.  In fact you'd you have to go back all the way to 2006 to find when the last defensive end was taken number one overall and that was when the Houston Texans took Mario Williams over Reggie Bush.

I don't know if Johnny Manziel, or Blake Bortles, or Teddy Bridgewater is going to be great in the NFL and maybe they all will be.  But I do know this about the NFL and the Houston Texans: getting pressure on the quarterback is very vital and they already have a specialist in J.J. Watt.  Get another one!  Use the number one draft pick on Jadeveon Clowney.  The history of the Houston Texans number one draft picks is David Carr and Mario Williams.  David Carr is probably in some sort of veterans hospital and Mario Williams is still playing in the league in Buffalo.  Granted, those both sound like Hell on Earth, but at least Williams is still getting a fat paycheck.  Take the freak defensive end, create awesome pass-rushing defense, get anybody later in the draft who can throw the ball to your own team more than the other one.  There's the formula, don't disappoint me Houston.

Thirdly, and I'm so surprised that's a word, is that we've been together a long time, you and I, faceless entities and I worry that we're just not ourselves anymore.  Let's promise each other something right here and now.  I'll try harder and so will you.  It's not that tough.  You could always use a little information and a good laugh and I could always feed my narcissism.  It's win-win for the both of us.  Let me know what you think, my office is always open.

By the way, if you see Latvia, tell her that you saw me talking to Estonia.  That ought a do it.

Float on, graceful swans.

Return To Glory!

Loyal readers of the Studly Pastures probably noticed that I have been absent from posting.

I'm talking to you, Latvia.

Relax, I haven't been comatose, or traveling the world, or even been remotely busy with anything else that would have kept me from my SP duties.

Quite simply, it's been a rough sports month for me.

OK, quick recap, the Miami Dolphins missed out on Peyton Manning, they missed out on Matt Flynn, they traded Brandon Marshall, they signed David Garrard, they don't seem to have any plausible draft strategy for the end of this month, and nobody in the front office seems to give at least two shits.

Side note: That's all I'm going to say about the Miami Dolphins for right now. They don't deserve their own post and only talking about it further is just going to raise my blood pressure to unnatural levels. I'm almost out of scotch because of those ignorant morons.

The University of Nathan Curtis had a decent tournament run until our point guard, Kendall Marshall, broke his wrist. He's only the guy that runs the offense and sets the plays, you know, no big deal. With him gone, the Tar Heels were simply treading water until those grain-eating flat-heads from Kansas put them out. They aren't smart enough to not build their houses in a tornado hotbed but they sure are purdy good at puttin' the ball in the hoop! I'm just kidding, people of Kansas, but it's only natural for me to be hateful. Oh, and, just to make sure there is little to root for next year, four of our five starters are going to the NBA. Last time that happened? UNC lost to Dayton in the NIT final. I need to invent some new expletives. The old ones aren't cutting it anymore.

I WAS getting excited for baseball season to start with the arsenal of pitching the Rays are set to deploy this season. Then our outfield started dropping faster than Brandon Marshall in clutch time. Who has an outfield collision in spring training?! I didn't even know that was physically possible. I love the tenacity behind it but when it means you are now going to miss time playing REAL baseball because of the injury you sustained in FAKE baseball, maybe take a dive next time. We're already going to score the least amount of runs in the game, we need you out there chasing down fly balls, BJ Upton and Sam Fuld!

So where have I been? I've been sitting in the corner of a dark room, rocking back and forth, wondering about why everything I care about sports-wise is circling the drain. Sometimes it really sucks living in the Twilight Zone.

Then I realized that I was being really selfish. The people need to hear my words of wisdom to get them through their idle lives. It was my fault that I gave them a little taste and then rudely denied them for so long. I pledge to be here more often to fulfill your lives of depravity.

Still looking at you, Latvia.

By the way, kids, I'm working on developing a podcast so that instead of just imagining my voice of gravitas in your heads, you will actually be able to experience it first hand! Then all you'll have to do is picture my svelte body in your heads! Convenient!

There's just a small technological hiccup that I have to get ironed out first. By 'small technological hiccup', I mean that I don't understand the technology involved and when I try to set it up I end up just mashing the keyboard with my palms and yelling incoherent gibberish.

Once I get some more scotch though I should be able to figure it out. Stay tuned!